Throttled
by elbcw
Summary: 'Only Aramis had his back to the man with the chain. Porthos yelled out a warning, but the clashing of swords drowned out his words as the man advanced on the unsuspecting victim.'


**Authors note: Not much plot, just Aramis whump really. I hope you enjoy it.**

Throttled

The man in front of him seemed to have a permanent sneer, Porthos did not like the man's expression and was keen to wipe it from his face. The sneering man was good with the sword, he was trained, possibly a former military man. But former military men lost their speed and efficiency and they lacked discipline. Porthos had all those things and more. He had a desire to deal with the man. He wanted to neutralise the man so that he could help his brothers.

None of them ever begrudge help. Even if they were only fighting one man a helping hand from a fellow Musketeer was welcomed. There was often a good-natured sarcastic remark, but really the help was gladly received. Porthos had both given and received help before and he did not care. If it helped to get the job done and kept them all safe and unharmed, he would never turn down help from his brothers.

As he fought the man he managed to glance at the others. D'Artagnan and Athos were busy fighting three men between them. Aramis had one opponent, the two men had moved a few yards away as they fought. The energetic fighting style of Aramis' opponent had forced the Musketeer to move with him.

A cry from one of the men Athos and d'Artagnan were fighting told Porthos that the odds were even. He saw the man who had been struck slink off a few yards clutching at his arm glaring at d'Artagnan who grinned as he concentrated his attack on one of the other men who had been fighting them. Porthos knew that d'Artagnan would be alert for the man to regain his composure and step back into the affray.

The sneering man landed a hard blow against Porthos' main gauche, reminding him that he needed to deal with his own combatant before he could offer any help. The evenly matched fight was certainly stretching him. But not so much that he was struggling. Porthos knew he would win, although he suspected the win may be due to him leaving the man fatigued and making mistakes. But Porthos did not care, as long as he won.

He watched the man that d'Artagnan had injured move away a few yards and grab a length of chain. The injured man wrapped one end of the chain around his right hand and clutched the other tightly in his left as he looked from one Musketeer to the next. Porthos realised what the injured man intended to do. With a quick glance at his brothers, Porthos worked out which of them would be the target.

Only Aramis had his back to the man with the chain. Porthos yelled out a warning, but the clashing of swords drowned out his words as the man advanced on the unsuspecting victim.

Aramis took a step back from a wide swing of the sword of his opponent. The man with the chain took his chance. He raised his arms and pulled the chain around Aramis' neck, before quickly wrapping it around a second time.

Porthos saw the moment of shock on his brother's face, the attack had come unexpectedly. With instinctual moves Aramis dropped his sword and grabbed at the chain, scrabbling with fingers that could not pull the metal away from his throat.

The man facing Aramis had been mid thrust at the moment the other man attacked. The sword sliced through Aramis doublet, cutting into his side. Not a fatal injury but enough that it would have incapacitated the Musketeer. Enough to have thrown him off balance and left himself open to further attack. Had Aramis not been attacked from behind the opposing swordsman would not have been able to land the blow. The man looked pleased with himself, but really, he had just been fortunate.

Porthos did not like being unable to help his brother. His brother who, at that moment could really do with a hand. Aramis was not a man to need help often, he was more than capable of dealing with several enemy combatants. But in the circumstances, he had found himself, Aramis was helpless. Porthos knew there would be no way his brother would be able to free himself from the chain around his neck. He knew the strength would quickly ebb from Aramis until he could not even try to pull at the offending metal which was limiting his ability to breath.

Knowing he had to deal with the swordsman in front of him first, Porthos renewed his efforts. The sneering man had obviously noticed the Musketeers predicament and wanted to delay Porthos for as long as possible, preferably permanently. But Porthos was determined, he stepped towards the man, forcing him to take a step back. Porthos repeated the action again. The man found himself on uneven ground, the distraction of a different surface underfoot was all that Porthos needed, he went in for the kill, the blow quick and precise. He did not think the sneering man had known where the fatal strike came from. But he pressed his hand futility to the wound and looked at the blood seeping between his fingers.

The man was unimportant to Porthos, the man would die soon enough, he pushed the sneering man away. The man was not sneering anymore, which would have satisfied Porthos greatly, if he did not have more pressing issues to attend to.

Wrenching his gun from his belt and turning in one swift movement, he raised the weapon. It annoyed him that he could not shoot the man with the chain, but Aramis was blocking him, and Porthos knew his aim was not good enough to chance a shot. Aramis would have made the shot; the skilled marksman would have had the confidence to do it. But the skilled marksman was in no shape to fire a weapon at that moment.

Porthos fired the weapon, hitting the man who had been fighting Aramis. The man stumbled to the side before collapsing, blood spattering the area around him as he fell, the fatal shot having pierced the man's neck leaving him dead very quickly.

The man with the chain around Aramis' neck yanked his captive around slightly, shielding himself with the Musketeers body. Porthos saw the panic in his brother's eyes, there was no mirth, no cheeky grin, Aramis needed help, and quickly.

Help came in the shape of d'Artagnan, hurling himself at the man who had Aramis. The move catching the man by surprise. All three men fell to the ground, d'Artagnan slightly on top of the attacker but unable to pull him fully off Aramis. The attacker's grip with his left hand loosened as he tried to fight d'Artagnan, but the chain remained tightly around Aramis' neck.

Porthos surged forward, shoving the attacker back, giving d'Artagnan the space he needed to punch the man twice in the head.

Aramis had landed on his side, his hands still trying to pull at the chain, but with little reward, as the strength left him.

Porthos took the loose end of the chain and managed to unwind it, peeling it from his brother's skin. Bruising and grazing covered Aramis' neck as the metal was removed.

Aramis went limp, slumping fully to the ground, face down, his hands trapped underneath him. Porthos pulled his friend over onto his back and looked for signs of life. Porthos held his own breath as he checked that Aramis still had breath of his own.

He was vaguely aware of d'Artagnan and Athos pulling the man with the chain away from Aramis. He did not know what state of health the man was in. Porthos only cared about Aramis in that instant.

He leaned over his friend close enough to feel the breath from Aramis' mouth. Porthos was still for what felt like hours but was only seconds until he felt the smallest of breaths from the unconscious man's mouth. Porthos sent up a silent prayer of thanks to Aramis' God as he leaned back.

Aramis breaths were shallow and haltering. The damage to his throat from the chain having left him unable to take proper breaths. But he was alive, and Porthos intended to keep him that way.

MMMM

'What do we do?' asked d'Artagnan as he looked at Aramis.

Porthos looked up at d'Artagnan who was still panting from the exertion of the fight. The younger man's cheek was grazed, a bruise already forming, from his brief fist fight with the man who had attacked Aramis.

Athos was busy restraining the surviving attacker, using the man's own belt to tie his arms behind his back. The barely conscious man would probably not cause them any further issues but none of them really needed the distraction.

'Cool cloths,' said Porthos, 'cool cloths on his neck...and the wound to his side, it's bleeding we need to see to that as well.'

'Stay with him,' said d'Artagnan with a nod, 'I'll get what we need.'

The Musketeer scrambled to his feet and hurried off in the direction of the horses. Porthos returned his attention to his brother who shifted slightly. As Aramis regained consciousness, he tried to pull away from Porthos for a few seconds, it was clear he was confused and did not know who had hold of him, his struggles were weak and ineffectual, however, Porthos worried his friend would injure himself further.

'Aramis,' said Athos, as he crouched in front of the injured man, laying a hand on his arm. 'It's us, you are safe. Do not try to talk...or move, whilst we deal with your injuries.'

Aramis stopped his weak struggle against Porthos and slumped back slightly. He tried to reach up and touch his neck but Porthos caught his hand.

'Leave it,' he said, 'we need to clean the grazes...how is your breathing?'

Porthos glanced at Athos, he hated asking the question, but they were in enemy territory and the sooner they could move on the better, which meant getting their injured brother on a horse.

Aramis seemed to sense the issue his brothers had, he patted Porthos arm and managed a small nod.

'We can dress the wound here, before finding somewhere more secluded to stop overnight,' said Athos.

Aramis shook his head.

'Aramis,' Athos said with a warning glare at the injured man, 'you are in no state to argue. For once, you cannot argue. You have no choice, just do as you are told.'

Porthos smiled, 'makes a change for you to be the quiet one,' he said.

Aramis managed to slap him. Porthos disliked the lack of force behind the playful admonishment. Aramis may have been outwardly trying to behave normally but the man was suffering.

D'Artagnan returned with the horses. He pulled a waterskin from his saddlebag and took Athos' offered scarf, before dampening the fabric and kneeling in front of Aramis. They wrapped the cooled scarf around Aramis' neck before d'Artagnan offered him the waterskin. With a shaking hand Aramis took the skin and managed a couple of sips of the water, he handed the skin back to d'Artagnan with a pat of his hand to show his thanks.

'You're welcome,' said d'Artagnan. 'Now, let's get the wound dressed.'

Porthos helped his friend to sit up as d'Artagnan undid his doublet. Aramis was still heavy in Porthos' arms, he was not even trying to sit up on his own, the strength clearly gone from him, his head lolling forward a couple of times.

As the blood-soaked shirt was uncovered d'Artagnan looked up at Aramis and shook his head.

'Sorry,' he said, 'this is going to hurt.'

Aramis managed a nod as d'Artagnan pulled the shirt free of Aramis' breeches. Porthos tightened his grip on his brother as Aramis gasped, the action making him cough which in turn probably hurt his throat further. Porthos grabbed Aramis' hand squeezing it to offer reassurance. Aramis squeezed back, his eyes screwed shut.

D'Artagnan worked quickly, wadding up a bandage to cover the still bleeding wound before wrapping a second around Aramis' to hold it in place.

'It's going to need cleaning and possibly stitching, but that will do for now,' he concluded as he pulled Aramis' doublet back together and did the buttons up for the injured man.

Athos was keeping a watchful eye on the area as d'Artagnan worked. Porthos looked up at him.

'What about that one?' he asked nodding towards the man who had attacked Aramis.

'What about him? I intend to leave him where he is,' replied Athos.

'Agreed,' said Porthos. 'We don't need anyone else to worry about.'

Porthos realised Aramis had relaxed, he looked at his brother whose eyes were shut, his head leaning back against his shoulder.

'He's passed out again,' Porthos said simply looking up at the others.

'We need him on a horse,' said Athos in reply.

It took them a few minutes to rouse the injured man who again reacted by trying to push away from them. Porthos was forced to hold his friend tightly to stop him from hurting himself as d'Artagnan grabbed Aramis by the head and forced him to focus and understand that he was not in immediate danger.

Not wishing to give Aramis a chance to pass out again, they hauled him to his feet. Porthos hated seeing Aramis in pain. He hated seeing any of his brothers in pain. It was part of their lives, they were soldiers and injuries came with the job, but that did not make it any easier.

He left Aramis in the care of d'Artagnan as he mounted up before leaning down to help Aramis up behind him on the horse. Without giving his friend a choice, he grabbed his wrists and pulled them around his own waist, it took Aramis a few seconds, but he eventually understood that he would have to prove he was conscious by holding onto Porthos.

'If you pass out and fall off this horse,' said Porthos quietly, 'I will be really annoyed with you…'

The only response he got was a huff from the man behind him followed by a couple of painful sounding coughs.

Athos was already leading them away from the site of the fight. He knew the area, Porthos guessed he was leading them somewhere that they could regroup properly and deal with Aramis' injuries. Aramis was in no state to travel far at that moment, the wound to his side had already left the man pale. And they did not know how much damage the throttling had done. He hoped his brother would only have to rest his voice, that his breathing would return to normal and Aramis would be fine. He hoped.

MMMM

Porthos was aware of his brother leaning on him as they rode. The need to get to safety, or relative safety, was at the forefront of his mind. The mission had been a disaster from the beginning. They had been dispatched at short notice with no preparation to deliver a package to a general in an area of France that was notorious for bandits and robbers. The local people so desperate that they had resorted to robbing anyone that passed their way.

They had delivered the package and were on the return journey when they had been attacked. The apparently idyllic woodland hiding the five men from view. Thick brambles along the road working well to conceal the robbers. They had used ropes across the road to trip the horses. It was fortunate that none of the Musketeer mounts had been injured, but their confusion had forced the soldiers to dismount and face their foes on foot.

Initially, the Musketeers had fallen back on the tried and tested view of trying to better their attackers, not wishing to kill men who were only looking for money to live. But when Aramis was attacked in such a way that it was clear the men wanted to kill, the whole incident had taken on a more sinister tone.

Now Athos was leading them to the place of safety he had intimated that he knew of. Porthos was holding the reins of his horse with one hand, the other employed keeping hold of the man behind him, his hand wrapped around Aramis' wrist.

Athos led them off the road into the thicker woods, the coverage of trees causing the light to disappear leaving them in a dim twilight like atmosphere. After a few minutes, the brambles and thick tangled bushes and trees gave way to a small clearing. The small clearing was far enough from the road that it was unlikely to be found unless it was known to the searcher.

'How did you know this was here?' asked d'Artagnan as he dismounted and looked around the small clearing.

'From a previous mission, a local gave me directions to it when I needed to camp for the night,' replied Athos.

'As long as we ain't disturbed it'll do,' said Porthos as he waited for help getting Aramis off his horse.

D'Artagnan reached up to the injured man who allowed the Musketeer to help him down. It was a slow process for Aramis. As soon as Porthos was not supporting his friend he swung his leg over the horse's head and dismounted, hurrying around to help d'Artagnan who was being forced to hold Aramis up. The injured Musketeer had managed to get to the ground before wilting again.

Porthos helped d'Artagnan to lower the now unconscious Aramis to the ground and settled himself behind the Musketeer, keeping him slightly propped up. Porthos kept one hand on Aramis' chest feeling for the reassuring movement as his friend took each laboured breath.

'I will do a couple of circuits, to make sure we are alone,' said Athos, as he checked his weapons.

D'Artagnan nodded, 'we can deal with Aramis. Could we chance a fire?'

Athos shook his head, 'I would rather we did as little as possible to advertise our presence.'

Without further delay, Athos strode from the clearing, back the way they had entered it. He was lost from sight within a few seconds.

Porthos returned his attention to Aramis who had not stirred since they had helped him from the horse. Porthos slowly undid the buttons on his friend's doublet, pushing the leather carefully aside as he reached the site of the wound. D'Artagnan's temporary bandage had done well, no blood had seeped through. Porthos hoped that was a good sign. The wound had looked nasty but once cleaned up might prove not to be too bad, he hoped.

D'Artagnan was busy pulling Aramis medical bag out and digging out his cloak. Between them, they divested Aramis of his doublet and pulled his shirt up again before unwrapping the temporary bandage. Porthos continued to hold onto Aramis firmly, they knew there was a chance the man would react negatively to having the wound on his side dealt with. They had all been in the same position before, generally with Aramis tending to them.

D'Artagnan glanced at Porthos for a few seconds. Porthos knew the younger man needed a little reassurance.

'You can deal with it,' he said with a nod. 'Your stitches are as good as his.'

'Almost,' said d'Artagnan with a smile.

He pulled the bandage away from the wound before using a clean cloth to wipe away the blood, pausing when Aramis reacted slightly but did not come around. D'Artagnan unstoppered the bottle of alcohol for cleaning injuries, he looked up at Porthos again.

Porthos nodded, tightening his grip on the unconscious man at the same time. As D'Artagnan poured the alcohol over the wound Aramis reacted by trying to pull away, his eyes opening wide at the same time.

'Easy,' said Porthos as both he and d'Artagnan were forced to restrain the shocked man.

After a few seconds, Aramis managed to calm himself down, his breathing was still laboured. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and quiet.

'Sorry,' he whispered.

'Shh,' admonished d'Artagnan. 'Don't strain yourself trying to talk.'

Aramis managed a nod as he looked at the wound. Porthos followed his friend's gaze, the injury was indeed not as bad as they had first thought. The sword had left a cut to the fleshy part of Aramis' side.

'I think,' said d'Artagnan slowly, looking up at Aramis, 'that we can get away without stitches? If you promise to be careful?'

Aramis shifted slightly to look more closely at the injury. He nodded his agreement with a slightly relieved smile.

'It will mean we have to redress it frequently though,' said Porthos, the obvious worry of infection on all their minds.

Aramis nodded again before blinking a few times.

'Sleep, we're not leaving here for a bit. Athos is scouting the area,' said Porthos when it became clear his friend was struggling to remain awake.

Aramis' breathing settled, a slight wheeze to each breath which was oddly reassuring to Porthos. After a few minutes he gently rearranged Aramis to lie against his horse's saddle, which d'Artagnan had removed and laid on the ground near them, d'Artagnan covered him with his cloak.

MMMM

Porthos watched d'Artagnan keeping himself busy finding food amongst their bags. He had been hunting through his own bag before glancing at Porthos who nodded towards his bag, where he knew there was more food. It was not long before d'Artagnan had rustled up enough food for the three of them.

Aramis was still asleep. Porthos had not moved from his side, a constant sentinel. Athos had returned after his patrol telling them he considered the area safe enough for a few hours. He had crouched by their injured brother for a couple of minutes until he was satisfied, they had done all they could for him.

'Provided we keep a good watch I think we should stay here for the night,' said Athos as they ate the dried meat and bread.

Porthos nodded his agreement as he chewed on a piece of indecipherable meat. His attention was drawn away from trying to work out what the meat was by Aramis mumbling and moving slightly.

'Bad dream?' suggested d'Artagnan as he watched the injured man trying to fend off some unseen foe with a shaky arm.

Porthos leaned across and grabbed the wandering hand, he was surprised when Aramis grabbed back, gripping his hand tightly. Aramis had opened his eyes and was staring up at the darkening sky, but he did not seem focused.

'There's too many…' he whispered, his hoarse voice breaking up as he spoke.

'Aramis, it's alright. Don't try to speak,' said Porthos.

Aramis continued to weakly struggle before going limp again. Porthos placed his hand on his friend's chest again, relieved to find the rise and fall of his chest even.

'That is a worry,' said Athos.

Porthos looked across scowling. D'Artagnan glanced at both men with confusion.

'Hallucinations,' continued Athos, 'it might be a sign of-'

'He'll be fine,' said Porthos unable to keep the annoyance from his voice. 'He was fine earlier.'

He was surprised that Athos was considering that the near strangulation that Aramis had suffered could have meant their friend might be permanently injured. The thought of his brother being damaged in such a way was incomprehensible to Porthos. He was not going to lose Aramis to a pointless skirmish with poor desperate men.

D'Artagnan was still looking at his friends with confusion. Porthos shook his head and looked away, leaving Athos to explain what he meant to the younger Musketeer.

'There was a man who was meant to be hanged. We were there on guard at the time. A reprieve was issued, only getting to the gallows as the man was being executed. He had been hanging for a short time before he was cut down...but the damage was done, the man was left...wrong. He was seeing things and behaving oddly.'

'That ain't happening to Aramis.'

Porthos spoke firmly as he looked back at Athos who returned the look for a few seconds before rising to stand and turning from them.

'I'll do another circuit,' he said as he walked away, not giving the others a chance to offer to take a turn.

Porthos knew that Athos was only showing concern for their friend. He held no ill will towards him, but could not help his reaction. The thought had occurred to him as well, but hearing it said out loud was not pleasant. Aramis had been fine earlier, when he first came around, the waking dream and confusion was surely just a one-off?

Aramis would be fine, thought Porthos, Aramis was always fine.

He watched Athos disappear into the wood around the camp. It was almost dark, Athos was lost from sight very quickly. With no fire lit they were able to see a few yards into the tree line, but the tangle of dense foliage was so thick the visibility did not extend any further.

A tap on his arm had him look back at Aramis. Porthos realised he was still clutching at the injured man's hand, he let Aramis go as the agitated man tapped at him again. Aramis was not looking at him, but seemed to want his attention. Aramis was looking off to his left beyond d'Artagnan who was still looking in the direction Athos had disappeared.

Porthos watched as his confused friend stared intently at the trees. His marksman's gaze piercing the darkness, his still laboured breathing quickening with obvious distress. Porthos wondered what Aramis thought he could see. He had mumbled about too many men during his early moment of consciousness. Was he still trapped in the same hallucination?

Aramis tapped at him again, but gently, with subtlety. Porthos rested his own hand over his friends, stilling the movement which had become urgent.

Porthos wanted to look away, did not want to see his friend as he was, seeing things that were not there, reliving skirmishes and battles from years before. Porthos did not want to see Aramis in his current state.

Aramis looked back up at him, Porthos was surprised to see his friend's eyes showing focus and concentration. Aramis pulled his hand free of Porthos' gentle grasp and pointed in the same direction he had been looking in. The pointing was not wild gesticulation, but careful and considered, Aramis really wanted Porthos to look at something.

Aramis was focused, Aramis was not hallucinating.

D'Artagnan was watching Aramis carefully before glancing at the tree line briefly, his brow furrowed. He looked back at Aramis, then at Porthos.

'I think there is someone watching us,' whispered d'Artagnan.

Aramis nodded before subtly pointing at d'Artagnan then pointing in the direction Athos had gone to start his patrol. D'Artagnan nodded slowly with a smile as he watched Aramis make a circling motion with his finger.

'If you'll excuse me,' d'Artagnan said out loud, 'I'll just be a few minutes.'

'Of course,' replied Porthos with equal volume, 'he's still unconscious, we can leave him for a while.'

Porthos glanced at Aramis who had shut his eyes and lay his head back. The plan understood by them all. D'Artagnan rose from his place by Aramis and walked off in the direction Athos had gone a few minutes before. Porthos patted Aramis' shoulder before standing and wandering towards the horses, leaving the injured man alone.

If the man who was watching them was an enemy, he would see their move as a perfect opportunity to attack. Porthos turned his back on the opposite direction of the suspected watcher, making himself an easy target. Would the watcher be stupid enough to think that d'Artagnan had really walked away from them?

A twig cracked behind him, Porthos wanted to turn around to face whoever was approaching them. What worried him was that Aramis, who was in no state to defend himself, was lying in the centre of the clearing unprotected. But they needed to draw the watcher out.

'Why bother?'

Porthos could not help a smile as he heard d'Artagnan's voice from the direction that the suspected watcher had been in. He turned back to find an annoyed looking man who was vaguely pointing a gun at him. D'Artagnan was stood a few feet from him, his own gun held out straight, aimed squarely at the man's head. The man was the same one that had attacked and tried to strangle Aramis. He must have freed himself and followed them. Being a local meant he probably knew about the clearing. Porthos wondered how long the man had been watching them?

The man lowered his gun and turned towards d'Artagnan.

'You killed my friends,' he said.

'You were trying to kill ours,' replied d'Artagnan with a nod towards Aramis who was watching the man warily.

The man did not have a response. He simply stared at d'Artagnan. Porthos walked up to him and took the gun from him and pulled his sword from his belt as well.

'What are you going to do with me?' asked the man. 'Kill me?'

'Attempted murder is a capital offence,' said Athos who had appeared at the edge of the clearing, his own gun held loosely at his side. It was obvious he had worked out what had happened.

The man looked at Athos for a few seconds before looking at d'Artagnan again. Porthos knew what the man was going to do before he did it. Whilst he sympathised with the man Porthos knew they would not let him get away with what he had done. As the man turned quickly towards Aramis, pulling a small dagger as he did so Athos raised his gun and fired. The man took a couple of steps before sinking to the ground. He stared at Aramis for a few seconds before collapsing, his now sightless eyes staring at the sky.

The four Musketeers were silent for a few seconds before Porthos stepped towards the man, he crouched down and hooked his hands under the dead man's arms. He dragged the dead man away from the centre of the clearing and left him in an unceremonious heap at the edge.

He returned to the others. Athos was crouched by Aramis talking quietly. Aramis was responding, but Porthos could not hear the whispered answers.

'Don't strain your voice,' admonished Porthos as he reached them.

'Sorry,' said Athos, 'I just wanted his honest opinion on when he would be able to travel.'

'And..?' asked Porthos.

'He honestly responded that he would like a few more hours rest but could probably manage to double up with one of us in the morning.'

Athos glanced at Aramis who nodded.

'And, I have to admit to being incorrect with my earlier worry,' continued Athos with an unusually apologetic expression, 'he seems the most alert of us all. I had no idea we had been followed or were being watched.'

'I keep tellin' you, he'd make a great spy,' said Porthos with a smile.

Aramis hit him on the arm, the strike still weak, but the thought was what counted as far as Porthos was concerned.

The End.


End file.
